from ‘falling'


(25) You could say

 Retroactively something happens and it's also a reconstruction, but moving in another is problematic.

 Any work has a momentum and somehow going forward isn't going back. Being upside down is one side of shopping or department store flânerie, but I don't where this is going. I don't know that I'll ever dry out and come back down to earth. Something sticks going in one direction and I'm still getting over Betty Joseph's bad analyst. I think she was referring to present moments in sessions and I can't stay upside down forever. 

Christopher Sands, Ruth, 2011

(26) Nothing

 Nothing lasts forever, I  wanted the last house in talking house(s) and retroaction effects going forward. It's unbelievable and where ideas come from and wandering through the department store moves things backwards and forwards. 

 Ruth sensed a continuity.

(27) the future

 A continuum seems more likely some nights, getting up because I have to get up. It’s a premise or sometimes premises for talking house(s) and preparing podcasts is now something else. There’s more continuity at night. Sometimes a body of work is a singular body of work.

 In this first place I worry. Worry about my body and this continuum seems like the future. And feeling unwell is often feeling unwell at first. I feel unwell thinking about websites and the podcast idea.

 I remember getting up when Ruth was alive but anxiety and having to do something with something seem pressing. I can just about make tea sometimes and lying perfectly still is often the run up to sitting on the edge of the bed.

(28) promises

 Lacanian refer to having a body and sex comes into it somehow or other, but aches and pains are something else. There’s sex and aches and pains and anxiety is sometimes an afterthought. It wasn’t in the third curatorial dream or anxiety can be deduced, but falling in a fourth dream is not getting onto a bike eventually. There’s sex, aches and pains and not taking the plunge.

 Photographing sheep here falls short of falling off a bike. I can do it with my eyes closed and doing it with my eyes closed falls short of looking at a timeline. I make a start and post a few lines to Angela in South Africa and calling it a few lines is conversational and the timeline comes closer to looking and reading.

 I’m bitten each time I film sheep and mention this at the start of ‘fourth’. I puff up at night, splash my face with cold water in the morning and video has something to do with having a body and a body of work. It follows a text running in one direction and this work has everything to do with holding off an archive. There’s a little resolve and I can say something like this, but promises aren’t always promising. I know something about promises and don’t know anything at all. Or there could be holding back and holding on once upon a time. And memory and forgetting somehow come into it.

(29) this might be

 Once Texts couldn’t keep up with clips and stills, but texts run away during the pandemic. I’ve nowhere to go or there are no exceptions to having nowhere to go. I become preoccupied with work that’s already work or new work amounts to a glimmer or glint.

 Is there more? 

 I think I remember something. Remember when things changed or when I was the centre of attention for a while. Afterwards I remember playing football in the garden and Flora’s presence seems important. Afterwards, there’s  an extended period and I don’t know how or why Joyce and possibly Beckett come into it, but it has something to do with being in London and being anonymous and I never quite recovered from this anonymity. I wasn’t seen and carried on being unseen, then was seen briefly. 

 The assumption might be that something has changed or that something changes with psychoanalysis or the so called work of art and covidian life, which might be something else and I'm holding on to this might be at the moment.

Christopher Sands, still, 2020

(30) Frasier

 There’s something prescriptive about having to talk or performing and something possibly  less prescriptive shuffling clips in a timeline and the prescription in both cases effects me physically. It effects my insomnia and not being to sleep keeps me going. Here there was and is something else and going through the motions stops short of a trajectory that puts me out there in the world.

 Two things happen and getting ill or beaten up in a playground from long ago prompts an ill paid trajectory or podcast in the world of talking houses. I can read a text or script and the remedy works and doesn’t work in a closed in work. It’s my version of Frasier.

© Christopher Sands 2017